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Chapter XV
r. Rochester did, on a future occasion, explain it. It
Mwas one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and
Adele in the grounds: and while she played with Pilot and
her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long
beech avenue within sight of her.
He then said that she was the daughter of a French op-
era-dancer, Celine Varens, towards whom he had once
cherished what he called a ‘grande passion.’ This passion
Celine had professed to return with even superior ardour.
He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he believed, as
he said, that she preferred his ‘taille d’athlete’ to the ele-
gance of the Apollo Belvidere.
‘And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference
of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her
in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants,
a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, &c. In short, I
began the process of ruining myself in the received style,
like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to
chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode
the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch
from the beaten centre. I had—as I deserved to have—the
fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening
when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was
a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Par-
1 Jane Eyre